Destiny
by random apples
Summary: Draco has a destiny to fulfill involving the most powerful witch at Hogwarts. But who will be the one to conquer whom in the end? DH rated R for language and explicit sexual themes


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the other characters... although I wish I did. (Just a little Draco to fit in my pocket, please Ms. Rowling?)  
  
Destiny  
  
Summary: Draco is quickly rising the ranks of the world of darkness. In order to fulfill his destiny, however, there is one task he must complete. Unfortunately, it involves the most dangerous witch at Hogwarts. Will he be able to complete his duty, or will she be the one getting to him? Obviously, this a D/H fic and I promise that there will be lots of good action between them later on, this isn't rated R for nothing.  
  
The Manor  
  
Draco Malfoy looked out of the bay window that overlooked the entirety of his father's estate. The trees were all dead, just as they had always been, and the garden looked just as desolate in summer as it did in winter. In short, the view from the window was bleak, which admirably reflected Draco's present mood.  
  
As an only child, Draco had spent most of his youth in his father's company. Needless to say, this had not brought out the best in Draco's character. Like his father, Draco had become prejudiced against any person who wasn't pure-blooded. Also like his father, Draco had closed up his heart, preferring to laugh at the world than let any single person get to him, whether for bad... or for good.  
  
Growing up with his father watching his every move had hardened Draco. He trusted no one and made sure that his life would match up to his father's expectations under the tightest scrutiny.  
  
Only Draco's mother, Narcissa, had ever lent him a friendly eye. She deeply cared for her son, if not her husband, and worried constantly about his future. She didn't want him to be like Lucius: cold, unloving, and cruel. She always wanted him to stay the boy that he was, as yet unmarred by the harshness of the world. Her brief bliss in his innocence did not last long, however, as he grew up and quickly came into his own in the world of darkness that Lucius called his own.  
  
Draco knew that he was soon to be accepted into this very same society. He was proud to be admitted so young; few achieved such a privilege. He was going to be a great wizard someday. He was proud to think that The Dark Lord had been watching him and had noticed. He was proud to know that his accomplishments were recognized.  
  
Draco sneered at the gloom and pulled the curtains closed. His chambers, however, did not provide much better a sight: Blood red cloth covered every piece of furniture and the abnormally high ceiling allowed for an abundance of shadows.   
  
There was a knock at the door. Slowly, it opened, and a pale, bony hand crept around it. A body soon followed. Much like the hand, it too was pale and bony, topped with a blond-white mane. Lucius Malfoy. He looked upon his son with a feeling of pride. Draco was growing into a fine young man. Soon, very soon, he would be ready for admission; would be ready for the task that would prove his worthiness to perform the duty that Lucius had always known he was meant to do.  
  
"Draco. Your letter from Hogwarts came. We can go over to Diagon Alley tomorrow morning. Here," Lucius handed his son the envelope closed with the Hogwarts seal.  
  
Draco took the envelope from his father and broke the seal. Quickly, he glanced over the list of required books and then laid the letter on his desk, failing to notice a second letter stuck to it. He looked up at his father who was looking down at him with an odd grin upon his face.  
  
"What is it Father? Is there something else?" Draco asked.  
  
"No. I was just... thinking. That's all." Lucius replied. He looked down into the unclouded grey eyes of his young son. He was still so pure. Lucius almost felt a twinge of regret at how soon that innocence was to vanish. But, it was only a twinge, nothing more. He didn't much mind spoiling his son's last traces of childhood in order that he might become the great wizard that his future foretold.  
  
"Thinking about what father?"   
  
"You will learn soon enough," replied Lucius, and a hint of a smile seemed to flicker across his passive face, "Now, I must leave for the rest of the day to see an associate. I will return in time for dinner."  
  
"Goodbye Father."  
  
"Goodbye Draco," said Lucius and, in a flurry of robes, he exited the room, pulling the door closed behind him.  
  
Draco watched the door even after his father had left the room. Lucius' presence had a habit of lingering long after he was gone. And that look... Draco didn't understand. He couldn't. Not yet at least.   
  
Draco pulled himself onto his bed and lay there regarding the rich tapestry of his canopy. A single green serpent snaked its way from the foot to the head of the bed, surrounded by a forest of deeper green. Bored as usual, Draco picked up the candle beside his bed and began to play with the flame. Ah, the luxury of being a Malfoy, he thought cynically. Everything he touched was gold. Literally: almost everything the Malfoys owned was made of gold or some other type of expensive material. Draco licked the tips of his fingers, drawing them through the blue flame, making the candle sputter and finally go out, as he touched the pads of his fingers together at the wick.  
  
Placing the candlestick heavily back on the table, Draco heard something drop. Looking down, he saw that his Hogwarts letter had fallen. Picking it up, Draco noticed a second sheet of parchment behind the first. Without the candle, it was hard to read, and so Draco brought it up to the window. He began to read, his eyes growing wider with each word:  
  
Dear Mr. Malfoy,  
  
It is my pleasure to inform you that you have been chosen as Head Boy for this term due to your excellent grades and superb leadership qualities. We trust that our expectations will be held up as you, along with the Head Girl, lead the rest of the students through this new year. Congratulations.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Albus Dumbledore  
  
Draco looked up in shock, quickly dipping his head back into the parchment to read the words again, not able to believe what they told him. Head Boy? Draco knew that his grades were excellent, but he also knew that Dumbledore thoroughly distrusted him and could think less of his "leadership qualities." How could this be? Frankly, decided Draco, he didn't care.  
  
A grin spreading across his face, Draco threw open the door and ran down the stairs, calling for his mother.  
  
"Mother! Mother!" he shouted as Narcissa ran panicked from the drawing room.  
  
"What is it my darling?" she asked frantically, "Is something wrong?"  
  
"No, not at all Mother!" Draco could barely contain his excitement, and for once he was glad that his father wasn't around. If he had been, Draco would never have been allowed to display such emotion, "Look!" Draco handed her the letter.  
  
Narcissa read quickly, her eyes darting back and forth across the page. But she did not smile. Instead, she handed the letter back to her son and gave him an obviously false smile, "That's wonderful dear. I'm very proud of you."  
  
"Mother? Aren't you happy for me?" asked Draco, hurt at his mothers obviously lack of approval.  
  
"Yes. Of course," Narcissa replied, but her insincerity was more than evident.  
  
Crestfallen, Draco padded softly back up the elegant staircase, his feet making no sound in the thick green carpeting that lined it.  
  
His hand on the ornate gold doorknob that was emblazoned with the Slytherin seal, Draco had an odd feeling. It was if his mind knew that this was the time when he should cry; this was the time when a single, solemn tear should creep down his face. But his body, it seemed, was in disagreement. The tear wouldn't come.  
  
Reluctantly, Draco turned the knob and entered his room. Questions battered his exhausted mind. But no answers came. Again, Draco returned to his prostrate position on his bed. He glanced at the large clock that stood sentry next to his bathroom. The gilded hands pointed elegantly to the numbers eleven and six. Mechanically, Draco noted that he would soon be called for lunch. He wasn't hungry. But he would do as he was told. Didn't he always?  
  
A/N: Hey guys! Not much to say except for I'm not sure how much I'll be updating in the near future. I'm involved in a really intense musical at the moment and I'm basically busy all day every day for the next month. But I'll do my best! Please R & R, that always keeps me motivated and please be nice; criticism is welcome, but ONLY if it is constructive ( 


End file.
